Psychologists and Promises
by mircosedy
Summary: The Once-ler's conscience is pricking him about breaking his promise to the Lorax about cutting down trees. He gets psychological help.


**Hey, guys! This is super short, but I've been so busy with finishing up this semester, and working on a bigger project (which I hope to upload on here soon!) that I haven't had much time to post anything. So here's a quick little one-shot. Enjoy! :)**

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The room spun until it was only a mesh of color.

The Once-ler liked to spin quietly in his chair when he was troubled. It blurred the world, making him hope he could think clearly. He would spend hours spinning in his chair until he felt he had the answer.

He lazily brought his foot down, making the chair slow its furious rotation until it came to a stop. He adjusted the chair so he was facing the desk, and took a deep breath.

"I've got to do it," he murmured. He swiped at his nose, then pulled the green gloves off his hands. He would not do this as a businessman. This wasn't business.

After digging around in his desk, he found a phonebook. He flipped several pages forward, and a few pages back. Finally, he found what he was looking for.

With one arm tightly wrapped around his tall hat, he picked up the phone and dialed the number in front of him.

She picked up on the second ring. "This is Betty Marsh, Thneedville's leading psychologist!" Her voice was high, and much too vibrant.

Once-ler cleared his throat. "Uh- hi, Betty." He brought the base of the phone closer to his mouth, and lowered his voice. "This is… strictly confidential, you understand?"

"Of course, sir. May I ask who's speaking?"

Once-ler checked left and right, terrified someone was listening in. "This is the Once-ler," he whispered.

"Gonna have to talk louder than that, hun."

"The Once-ler," he nearly growled.

"Oh. Oh!" The realization of who she was really talking to settled in. If possible, her voice became even more high-pitched and cheery. "Well, Mr. Once-ler, what can I do for you?"

"I… I need help."

"Yes?"

"With, uh…. Well." He chuckled nervously. "I've kinda been feeling…. Guilty?"

"Guilty, Mr. Once-ler?"

"Yeah!" That nervous laugh bubbled up again. "You know, like when your mom tells you not to eat the last cookie, and you eat the last cookie, and for months you can't think of _anything else _but that last cookie?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, in a hushed voice, "Did you eat the last cookie, Mr. Once-ler?"

"It was the best tasting… Wait, no, no! That's not what I called about."

"Okay."

Once-ler sighed. He had to push through with this. "I… I made a promise. To a friend. Once."

"Yes? And what was this promise?"

He could almost hear her scribbling down notes in a notebook with a pen that was nearing the end of its life. If this ever got out….

"Mr. Once-ler?"

"Right, right." He nodded, and sat back in his chair, slowly spinning back and forth in it. "Well. When I first came here, I…I promised…" He reached absentmindedly for the brick colored book in front of him, tracing the golden designs dancing next to the spiral binding. In a surge of bravery, he said the next sentence in a rush. "I promised him I wouldn't cut down any trees!" He squeezed his eyes shut and folded his green-clad body up into a ball as if expecting a blow from some unseen hand.

"Uh-huh." She was definitely writing all of this down. "And this bothers you because...?"

"Well…" He relaxed slightly, opening his eyes and bringing his feet back down to the floor. "Because I'm cutting down his trees."

Pause. "Mr. Once-ler, are you really cutting down those trees?"

He was puzzled by her tone of voice. "Yeah..."

"Are you really? You're actually going out there with those axes and machines and chopping them down yourself?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then you aren't cutting down any of those trees. Your promise has not been broken."

Her logic didn't make sense. "Yeah, but I'm telling my employees to-"

"Doesn't matter, Mr. Once-ler, sir. As long as _you're _not the one _physically _cutting down those trees…"

He didn't quite know how to respond. He played with the cover of the spiral bound book, thinking.

"Mr. Once-ler?"

It made sense. It was starting to, anyways. A ray of hope shone through the dark turmoil in his mind. "So… I'm not… bad?"

"Not a stitch, sir. In fact, you're known for being _good._"

Once-ler leaned farther back in his chair, relaxing. "I am, aren't I?"

"Yes. I'm glad we've gotten that all cleared up. Is there anything else-?"

"Oncie!"

Once-ler nearly jumped out of his clothes, and clutched the phone tight to his chest. "Mom!"

Isabelle strutted across his office, leaving the door wide open. He _hated _that. "What are you doing?"

"I- nothing. Nothing!" He clutched the phone tighter. "I'm in the middle of a business call. Can you wait til I'm done?"

"But, Oncie, I think we need to talk…"

"Also, would it hurt you to knock?"

"I'm your mother, Oncie." She pinched his cheek so hard, he was sure it would bruise later. He sighed.

"Mom, just one more minute. Promise."

"Oh, Oncie, we all know how far your promises go." She ruffled his hair, then turned on her heel. "But I'll give you that one minute. Hang up, and come to the committee room."

Once-ler was stung by his mother's words. The slam of the door shattered his freshly regained confidence. No. He wasn't bad. He hadn't broken that promise to the Lorax. A trained psychologist told him so. His mom was talking about other, smaller promises that didn't matter.

He carefully brought the phone to his mouth. "Still there?"

"Yes, Mr. Once-ler."

"I may have to call you back. I'm having troubles with my…. Well, with…" He dropped his voice down to a whisper. "My mom."

The voice was as high-pitched and cheery as ever. "Yes, Mr. Once-ler."


End file.
